'Fess up!

There are a lot of mysteries in my house. Who left the back door open, for instance? No one ever did. It must have been the dog! (Actually, it WAS the dog, who figured out how to push the door open if it isn't locked.) So here's a list of this week's little mysteries of life:

1. Who left that giant booger on the hand towel???

(Timothy's suggestion that it was probably Wesley makes him my top suspect.)

2. Why is the front porch covered in something oily?

(I still have not figured this one out. It just appeared suddenly after I watered the porch plants, and I have no idea what it is. Disturbing.)

3. Who keeps knocking the dish towel in the kitchen onto the floor?

(Answer: Miney. Yep, I caught him at it. He reaches up and pulls it down, puts his front paws on it, and slides it all over the kitchen floor. Remind me to get a fresh dish towel every time I need one.)

And last, but certainly not least...

4. Who farted???

(No one ever owns up to this, either, and I suspect no one ever will.)

Summer Update

Day 12

If I have to mediate ONE more argument over who farted on whom and whether or not it was on purpose, I am going to the Home For Runaway Mothers! That is all!

More things I thought I'd never have to say: Bathroom Version

Yep, it's that time again. More things I've said in the last week or so that I never expected to need to say.

"NO, there is most definitely NOT an MMA move called 'The Cloud of Dust', and I'll thank you to remember that only the bathroom and your bedroom are zoned for on-purpose gas."

"Yes, it would be funnier if 'fart' was spelled P-H-A-R-T." (Hey, I had to agree with him and plus...it's impressive that a six-year-old knows that "Ph" makes the same sound as "F".)

"Even IF your teacher said the limerick you write for your poetry folder can be funny, she did NOT say it could be about bodily functions!"

"See, I told you if you played patty-cake with your boy parts, it would hurt!"

"OW, biting my butt is NOT funny!" (Before anyone falsely accuses Chris, that one was aimed at Wesley.)

I somehow foresee that more and more, these little lists will contain nothing but bathroom humor. ::sigh::

My Littlest Lad

Wesley is ten months old now, and I have to say...this baby is a JOY. He's sweet and cute and funny, and has an impeccable sense of comedic timing. For example, nearly every time I ask him for some kisses and put my cheek up close to his face, he burps. I know, it's a coincidence. But it happens all the time!

There was a time when I thought I'd never have a third child, but Wesley was worth the wait. He's very much the family pet. Gabe adores him. Timothy is finally showing some interest after months of ignoring. And pretty much the worst crime you can commit in this household is making Wesley cry. We're trying hard not to spoil him, but it's an uphill battle, I assure you.

Some Wesley fun facts:

• Wesley has many nicknames. Wesley Woo, Wesley Wiggles and Mr. Wigglesworth are the main three, and Gabe generally just calls him "Wiggle". The other day in the car, we had Veggie Tales "Oh, Veggie, Where Art Thou?" blasting, and Wesley was "singing" along with the music. I said, "Sing it, Wesley Woo!" and he immediately launched into falsetto. Gabe turned to the backseat and said, "A little pitchy, Wiggle, a little pitchy!"
• If it wasn't obvious from the nicknames, this baby is constant motion. When he sees something he wants, he reaches out both hands and clasps and unclasps them quickly. We call it "Want, want hands".
• We're struggling a bit with food allergies with this short person of ours. He's definitely allergic to bananas, and probably several other fruits, milk and possibly eggs. He's due for some allergy testing next month.
• After not being mobile and showing little interest in it, Wesley learned to pull up, roll over and crawl in that order, within about a three week period. Now he's into everything. This morning he got into my knitting bag and unwound my yarn.
• Outdoorsy baby is outdoorsy. He adores the wind, loves the feel of the grass, and is generally happiest if we play outside.
• Up until recently, Wesley was a johnny jump-up fanatic. He didn't just jump, either. He'd back up down the hall, launch himself forward, and pick up both feet so he could swing. The first day he could crawl, he refused to go in the johnny jump-up and hasn't allowed us to put him anywhere near it since!
• He's getting great at cruising along with a little help from the furniture. He walks on tiptoe a lot, which is unbearably cute.
• Meanie absolutely adores Wesley. He'll let Wesley manhandle him and purr blissfully the entire time. As a result, Wesley learned to say "kitty" before he said "Mama". I see where I am on the list of priorities! Right under "blah", "dada" and "kitty", apparently. He also says "stinky" and "Gabe".
  

This is how we handle laundry day.

You could have knocked me over with a feather when he learned to pull up before he could roll over.

Bath time is always a hit. We've just transitioned to the big tub, and the occasional bubble bath with Timothy.

My handsome little strawberry blond baby! Tell me he isn't the cutest thing you've ever seen! Go on, I dare you!

A faulty internet connection and a gnat...

The above-mentioned are the reasons there has been no Wesley blog. Let me explain. The other night, I wrote a blog about Wesley. I spent about a long time selecting pictures, and then tried to upload them. It always takes a long time, which is part of the reason I didn't blog for so long. But in this case, after an hour of uploading, the router glitched and I lost not just the pictures, but the entire blog.

Chris ran to my aid. This could be because he was alarmed by the curses flowing from my lips. Or it could be because he works on computers for a living and likes a challenge. Who knows. As we were bent over my laptop, trying to retrieve what had been lost, a gnat casually flew up my nose. No, I am not kidding. This happens to me ALL THE TIME. I'll be sitting there, minding my own business, and a gnat will fly purposefully toward me and before I can so much as swat at it, the darned thing flies up my nose. I've been complaining about this phenomenon for years now. I'd say it happens two to three times per week, on average. And it's not even like we're overrun with gnats. Ever since a friend told me to topcoat the soil in the houseplants with sand, we hardly ever even see a gnat in the house. But if there is one single one anywhere in a twelve mile radius, it will find me. And fly straight up my nose without hesitation.

Anyway, after years of my complaining, Chris finally saw it happen. He swears he wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. But he did. So he laughed. Eventually, he went and got me a kleenex, because I was screeching and flailing. The gnat was not recovered. They never are. Somewhere, deep in my sinus cavity, is a large collection of dead gnats. Chris would like me to state for the record that this is perhaps the most disgusting thing I've ever put on my blog. (It isn't, because if you'll recall, I once regaled you with the exciting tale of how Meanie threw up on my head in the middle of the night.)

Eventually, I will rewrite the Wesley blog. But not now. Now I have to go get a kleenex. Another gnat just flew up my nose. Sadly, I am still not kidding.

My Long-suffering Eldest...

Next in my kid showcase is Gabe, my eldest. What can I say about Gabe? Let's see...he's eleven years old and starting to tiptoe into the waters of adolescence. He is easily embarrassed by his younger brother at school. For instance, if his younger brother were to come out of the bathroom with his pants around his ankles and go up to Gabe to ask for help with his zipper, that would be embarrassing. If Timothy told Gabe's classmates a story about the time he (as a baby) used Gabe's...erm...private parts...as a means of pulling up when they were in the shower together, that would be unspeakably embarrassing. What can I say, the two of them are like oil and water. They know how to push each others' buttons and most days, I should just don a black and white striped shirt, pull out my old lifeguard whistle and start calling their fights. But that is neither here nor there.

Gabe is starting to show interest in girls. Well, girl might be more accurate. He's sensitive and kind toward his poor, outnumbered mama most of the time, and he adores his youngest brother. He would take him to school if he could. He's good at helping around the house, and therefore, completely unwilling to do it. Chris has him mowing the lawn. Let me tell you about how much he likes that.

Gabe fun facts:

• He hates his teeth. He won't smile with teeth, and looked so sullen in his school picture that I made him do retakes. Where he looked only slightly less sullen and assured me that look was his best smile.
• He hates Justin Bieber. Loathes. Despises. But that has not stopped him from wanting to wear his hair longer, in what is suspiciously like a Bieber haircut. Don't tell him I said that. He'd kill me.
• He still has Senior Bear. He still sleeps with Senior Bear. And in the mornings and right before bed, he wears Senior Bear around his neck like a scarf. Don't tell him I said that. He'd kill me.
• School is a struggle right now. He loves reading, art, music, PE and hanging out with a certain girl who shall remain nameless. He hates studying. He hates social studies, science and being told what to do by teachers.
• Life's goal: To be a writer. He hates to write, but this doesn't seem to dissuade him from writing as a career.

Here he is, practicing archery with his bff. Do boys have bffs? I don't know the answer to this. I'll ask him tomorrow in front of his friends. He'll probably be horribly and unspeakably embarrassed.

Despite not liking school science, he loves real life science. Here he is, balancing some eggs on end.

I told you he wears Senior Bear like a scarf.

Ha! Teeth! Caught him off guard!

He calls Wesley "Wiggles" and Wesley adores him! He used to scare me hauling Wesley around the house and yard, but he hasn't dropped him yet. He did let him fall off a bed the other day, but babies are made of rubber, so there were no major injuries.

Gabe is funny. His sense of humor rivals that of most adults. He is proud of looking like his Popple. He is loving and so stubborn that I sometimes want to strangle him. He is sarcastic. I have no idea where he learned that. Really. He's a good kid, and I don't know what I ever did before I had him around to keep me in line.

My Misunderstood Middle Man

I wanted to write a blog on each of the boys, to document what they've been up to these days. It seems only natural to start with Timothy, since he is firmly convinced that he is unloved and I seem to spend most of my time trying to prove that I do, in fact, love him. Ah, the life of the middle child!

Timothy is six years old now, and in kindergarten. He reads as well as your average 3rd or 4th grader. He is silly, zany and ridiculous. He is the epitome of a difficult child. He is an accomplished mimic, he adores music, but most of all, he loves to torment his older brother. He really has a talent for it. Above and beyond most siblings, I think. Here are some Timothy fun facts:

• Life's goal: To become a jet-setting young music mogul. Yes, these were his exact words. When asked if he knew what that meant, he answered, "Yeah, a rock star. Like Justin Beaver, only a boy."
• Tonight he informed me out of the blue, "I like to sit in oatmeal. I pretend I'm a spoon."
• He doesn't like to be called by all three names. Upon hearing himself called by his full name, he exclaims, "Aaaaw, MAN! I got all my names filled in!"
• He has been receiving phone calls from a girl in his class. The first time she called, he spent a full five minutes on the phone with her before asking, "Who is this, anyway?"
• At school, he loves PE, computer, going to first grade for reading and lunch. Lunch especially.
• Least favorite school subjects include music and art, which are "boring".

• Despite hating music at school, he listens to music nonstop. The Psalty the Singing Songbook series is his current favorite. He recently told me that his favorite song is "I've got the Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy, down in my heart! Down in my heart TUESDAY!"
• Timothy played soccer last fall. At the end of the season, he had not scored a single goal. This minor fact didn't disturb him in the least, so that's good.
  

Every now and then, Timothy decides he wants to hold Wesley. It's adorable. It normally lasts four seconds. Sometimes five. Then Wesley pulls Timothy's hair or pinches him or spits up and Timothy screams. I had to take this picture really fast.

This is what most of my current pictures of Timothy look like, unless he doesn't know I'm taking them. I'd say we have 75% silly faces, 20% pouting because I told him to stop making silly faces and 5% candid shots.

He's actually pretty cute when he's not making silly faces or pouting.

Doing a bit of Wii Fit yoga. He only does the one pose, but he does it a lot. Sometimes for an hour at a time. He's going to have very flexible sides, with all the half moon poses.

Timothy is a laugh a minute. He is a joy, he is a trial, and more often than not, he is the bane of my very existence. He has had stitches four times in less than two years. FOUR TIMES. My hair is going to turn gray, and when it does, it will be Timothy's doing. He drives me insane and I love him dearly. Life must have been very dull indeed before Timothy!